Scars
by Tenbris
Summary: "She wondered, as he slept by her side, if she was broken." (Teeters between T and M; rated M to be safe. Sexual situations.)


**A/N:** _I had to make this one M because I'm not exactly how far I can push the T rating. If I want to talk about Soul's scar, he has to be shirtless. If Soul is shirtless, Maka probably is too. So, let's be safe with my ratings, k?_

_Not a lemon. Definitely has sexual undertones in some parts, so be careful if this is something that bothers you! But really, it's far more T than M._

* * *

That scar haunted her.

It was nothing, really. A thin line of pale, puckered skin with matching dots where the stitches had been. Honestly, it had faded a lot over the years. No longer was it an incredibly obvious feature of his skin. No longer was it the first thing that would draw your eye in.

But it was still there. And she knew it.

* * *

His fingers slipped across her bare torso, skirted up and down her arms, across her collarbone, along her neck. Wherever he touched, a wave of goosebumps was left behind. It was new. It was pleasant, in an odd way. It was terrifying. It involved _trust_, with a _man_, and she was not the most trusting person in the world, especially when it came to men. But it was also Soul, and that thought calmed her jittery nerves. His hands lifted to her breasts. She kept her nervousness and self-consciousness at bay and tried to focus on pleasure, mimicking his movements, her petite hands finding their way under the fabric of his shirt.

Her fingers met an inconsistency in his skin. Another surge of terror and panic overcame her. The scar. His scar. That permanent sign that she had not been strong enough, that she was unable to keep them safe Her pulse quickened, her muscles tensed, she bit her lip, and her breathing was coming in ragged breaths.

If he had been anyone but her partner, those all would have seemed like _good_ things to him. But he was Soul, and he knew Maka inside and out. Her soul was tense and frightened, so his arms moved to hold her rather than to lead his hands to explore, and he pulled her against his chest.

"Let's stop for now," he whispered into her hair. "You don't need to push yourself. It's okay."

She wondered, as he slept by her side, if she was broken.

* * *

Maka used to like the beach. Sure, sand got into every possible place where it _didn't_ belong, but the way that waves spilled against her legs, the smell of the air, and the crisp but sticky-with-salt air were all things she had enjoyed.

Now the beach meant that she would either be overcome with guilt or isolate herself from her friends. Because, really, it was silly to assume that Soul would keep his shirt on under the California sun.

So there she was: Maka Albarn sat in a fold-out chair under an umbrella with a novel in her hands. Her bikini was hidden by a simple black cover-up, and her legs were kept shaded by a towel. Why give the boys more ammunition with which to poke fun at her, after all? Avoiding the group was already enough to draw their attention to her. She did not need to hear about her lack of breasts or her manly legs, or heaven forbid her _fat ankles_.

And her eyes kept locking with Soul's.

Try as she may to focus on her book, Maka was _attracted_ to her boyfriend and partner. His body was toned with lean muscle, and his smooth tan skin contrasted against his white hair. A smile twitched at Maka's lips as she remembered how adamantly Soul had demanded that under _no_ circumstances was she allowed to let slip to _anyone_ the variety of skin and hair products that he used to maintain his appearance.

So, she watched him from afar, eyes drifting over his back, his legs, his _ass_, and his shoulders. But he kept interrupting her staring by glancing at her over his shoulder. Their eyes would meet, she would flush red, and he would smirk as she pretended to focus on her book.

But once, he turned around fully and began to approach her. Immediately her eyes were rerouted to her book; this was not the time for smirks and teasing looks. His soul reached out for hers, and she could feel him trying to project a wavelength that was as inviting as possible. Maka assumed that he wanted her to join in a walk or a game of some sort, and she responded with a quick burst of a negative feeling across their link. _Nope. Not falling for that one._

"Hey, you don't even know what I'm _asking_ yet, Maka. That's not cool." Soul had already joined her under the umbrella. He crouched in front of her, pushing away her towel and settling between her legs. Her eyes remained trained on the pages of her novel, so Soul flipped it out of her hands and onto the sand.

Maka's head snapped up and she scowled. "_Soul_! I was reading that, you know!" She made a halfhearted attempt at kicking him in the shin, but because of his positioning it was largely an ineffective attack.

Soul chuckled, and Maka could feel the vibrations through her legs. "How else am I gonna get you to pay attention to me, _bookworm_?" he countered. Maka pouted. "I have an activity proposal for you."

Maka arched one eyebrow as she reached for her book again. "Oh?" Activities meant joining the group, meant being forced to interact with people while the scar was _right there in front of her_. She already had excuses lined up: too easily sunburnt to take a walk, headache was too bad to play volleyball or throw a frisbee, not hungry enough to get lunch, didn't want sand in her swimsuit so no swimming.

"Yeah." Soul leaned forward. One of his arms stretched at an odd angle across his chest; it occurred to Maka that he was covering the scar so that she could look at him. "Come swim–"

"Sorry, I don't want sand in my swimsuit."

"–with me. Alone," he finished, brow furrowed at her quick reaction. "Geez, you want to avoid me that much today? Bet you had excuses for anything I could come up with," he scowled. "But I'm serious. We'll be alone, and the water will cover it up." He did not need to elaborate on what _it_ was. "So, let's go."

She hesitated, something weighing heavily on her mind. "Soul..." He looked up to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry I've avoided you. I just– You _know _it makes me remember, but I'm so sorry, it's not fair to you that I can't even look at you like this, it's _stupid_, I know–"

Soul interrupted his meister by standing. "It's cool, Maka. I get it. I'd probably be the same if our roles were reversed." He turned away and looked at her by twisting his neck, finally able to move his arm out of its awkward position. "But really," he grinned, "it's not fair that you get to ogle me all day when you're just sitting around in that coverup." Soul laughed at Maka's rapidly spreading blush. "So get off your ass and strip to your bikini. I'll be out there waiting."

True to his word, Soul kept his torso immersed in the salty waves. Maka was strangely at ease as she straddled his hips and their fingers traced each others' skin beneath the ocean's surface. When his teeth nipped at her collarbone, she moaned. He echoed that sound, albeit deeper, when their hips pressed together. His lips were salty. So was every bit of skin that she peppered with kisses.

Between the way the water moved and the grainy sand that slipped around her fingers, Maka could barely feel the scar.

* * *

**A/N:** _I considered adding more to this, but I think it's fine as-is. Then again, I'm finishing this up at 4am, so it's probably a piece of crap anyways! Yay!_

_I mostly wanted to explore a bit of the tension that would arise if Maka was unable to cope with the memories brought up by Soul's scar if they were in a relationship. Because, y'know, he'd need to be shirtless sometimes, and that's a bit of a problem._

_Let me know what you think!_


End file.
